


Cadence

by DireShire



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Denial, Friendship, Horses, Loyalty, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Other, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 20:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17732213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DireShire/pseuds/DireShire
Summary: He knew two things. His instinct, and Kieran. Where would he go without Kieran? What would he do? He’s followed a hogtied, terrified Kieran before. He’ll do it again.He doesn't know why. But he'll follow. And he'll stay.





	Cadence

When Kieran didn’t appear in the morning; that’s when he left. He knew something wasn’t right. He knew it was wrong.

It was easy to find Kieran’s trail. He knew Kieran’s scent so well, he could pick it out in a candle store. He knew everything about Kieran. His voice, his touch, his gentle eyes and meek posture. Just like Kieran knew everything about him.

Noone noticed him leave, of course. Kieran was the one who watched them. He simply pulled away from the others, and sprinted into the swamp, instantly identifying the tell-tale signs of Kieran’s absence as he followed the man’s scent. About five or so meters into the treeline, Kieran’s hat was abandoned, trampled against the earth. Sniffing it for a moment, he shook his head, following the hoof tracks in the mud.

The alligators weren’t of concern to him. He knew Kieran, as gentle and soft as he was, would go through hell and back for him, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do the same. After all, Kieran was the one who raised him. Kieran was the one who fed him, who hugged him and kept him safe. Kieran was his friend. He could never leave Kieran behind, not like this, not when he’d trekked through the mountains and through the plateaus with Kieran.

Sprinting through the trees, leaping over fallen logs and the snapping gators, the horse’s hooves beat against the ground in an even rhythm. Like the cadence of a drumline, sharp, steady, and determined. Nostrils flaring, ears laid flat against his head. He grunted and groaned as he ran, unwilling to stop until he’d found his beloved friend.

It wasn’t long until he found Kieran. Kieran had only been gone since this morning, when he didn’t come to greet his dear steed as he did everyday. A group of three or four O’Driscolls on horseback, galloping over the hills and through the bushes, with that familiar face hogtied on a horse’s back.

Crying out, he sped up. He galloped at full speed, mane and tail outstretched behind him. One of the O’Driscolls noticed him. They didn’t pay much mind. He let out a loud bray as he galloped at the side of the O’Driscoll before slamming himself into the other horse. The other horse neighs in confusion, skidding to a halt and rearing.

Dashing between the O’Driscoll horses, he could see Kieran, wrapped up like a stowed animal carcass. He leaned forward, nudging his rider. Looking up from the ground, Kieran’s face lit up at his friend’s face. “What the hell?!” One of the O’Driscolls shouted. Branwen barely looked up from Kieran when the sound of a bullet ran through the air.

Branwen whinnied, recoiling at the pain searing in his shoulder. He could feel the hot blood, staining his soft roan coat red. Stumbling for a moment, Branwen almost lost his balance. But Kieran had been good to him. Kieran was a good rider.

He wasn’t sure why they were shooting at him. He just wanted to be with Kieran.

Hefting his weight, Branwen continued to gallop. He could feel himself growing weaker, he wasn’t bred for this. But he was born for Kieran, the man who raised him and cared for him.

Another gunshot. Branwen’s leg caved beneath him, and he fell to the ground. He heard Kieran’s voice, and struggled to stand. He didn’t want to leave Kieran behind, or rather, he didn’t want to be left behind by Kieran. Snorting and grunting, Branwen fought back the pain, trying to ignore the blood that was pooling on the road.

Another gunshot. Branwen let out a whinny, a wheeze, and he fell. Chest slamming against the dirt, he struggled. Trying to force his legs to become solid again.

Another gunshot. Things felt faint. But he could still hear the distant echo of Kieran’s voice, the voice he’d heard all his life. Soft, gentle, reassuring words, the soft, gentle, reassuring voice of his friend.

***

Branwen jerked back his head, braying. His eyes flew open as a small rodent leapt backwards, startled by the horse’s sudden movement. His coat was covered in blood, and pain still coursed through his veins like a wildfire in a forest.

Grunting, he stood up. The sun was high in the sky, gazing down upon Branwen with an intense glare. It felt too bright. Branwen wobbled on his legs, as if he were a colt, just learning to walk. With Kieran. Kieran was the one who trained him, who praised him, who spoke those kind words to him.

Shaking his head, Branwen blinked, trying to clear his eyes of the fog that seemed to cover the lands. He had to keep going. He could still smell Kieran, and he could still see the deep hoofprints embedded in the dirt road. Breathing heavily, Branwen took a step, and then another. Then another. Then another.

It felt so slow. Maybe it was a cost cause. But Branwen, did he really have a motive to care? He was a horse. He knew two things. His instinct, and Kieran. Where would he go without Kieran? What would he do? He’s followed a hogtied, terrified Kieran before. He’ll do it again.

Eventually, Branwen was able to trot. Each jarring movement of his muscle felt like a strike of lightning. He’d been through worse.

As his hooves hit the ground, tip, tip, tapping, click, click, clacking, his heartbeat rang in his ears. The steady beat of a cadence, marching to the one thing in this world he knew.

***

He reached the O’Driscolls when the moon shone through the treetops, dripping her gentle blue light between the pockets of darkness in the forest. Branwen could smell the smoke of the campfires, and he heard the hushed chatter of O’Driscolls up late.

It was hard to see in the dark, but he recognized Kieran instantly. It was a painfully familiar sight. The man was tied to a tree, bent over, staring at the ground miserably. Just like the days when the other men taunted him with gelding tongs, those days felt so long ago…

Nevertheless, Branwen slowly made his way over to the prisoner. As he approached, he tilted his head forward, sniffing Kieran and bumping his snout against him playfully.

Kieran flinched, startled. He looked up, his pathetic expression turning to one of fondness as he met eyes with his dear companion. His face was covered in bruises and blood, but, so was Branwen.

“You still came for me… huh, boy?” Kieran whispered. Branwen didn’t understand. He never did. But Kieran’s tone was gentle, and that’s all the explanation Branwen needed. Branwen licked Kieran’s cheek, snorting and nudging his owner once again.

Kieran chuckled. “I should have known such a strong boy like you wouldn’t go down so easily.” Branwen whinnied softly. He liked it when Kieran’s voice dipped like that. It meant he was praising him. “You never did once leave me. You’re a stubborn boy, ain’t you?”

“But, uh… I don’t think I’m leavin’ here.” Kieran said, his face falling. “Not alive, at least.” Branwen nudged Kieran once more. “I can’t leave. They got me chained up, boy.”

Branwen huffed, pushing Kieran. Kieran yelped, squirming a little. “I can’t- I can’t move, Branwen, I’m stuck here.”

Branwen looked down at the chains wrapped tightly around Kieran’s body. He leaned down and began to nip at the steel, recoiling as the metal clanged against his teeth. “Be careful, I told you, I ain’t leavin’, as much as I want to!”

Branwen stomped his hoof. He tugged at the chains. When that didn’t work, he raised a foreleg and tried to push them off with his hoof. Frustrated, Branwen began to whinny, doing tiny rears and throwing his head back.

“Shush, boy!” Kieran hissed. “Branwen, you… you never left me behind, not even when Arthur had me tied to the back of his horse in those mountains.”

Branwen merely looked at Kieran, his deep, hazelnut eyes staring at Kieran.

“You’re the only one in my life who didn’t leave me, or die, or try to kill me. You’re-” Kieran sniffed. “You’re a good boy, Branwen, you’re a good boy.”

“But I need you to leave, boy.” Kieran said. Branwen only stared, and Kieran let out a shaky breath. “Please, boy, go. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

Branwen didn’t leave. He stayed. He stayed next to Kieran, staring at his friend, until the dawn rose through the treetops. He stayed, watching when the O’Driscolls shouted at him and hit him and made him bleed. Branwen didn’t like seeing Kieran hurt. But he wasn’t sure what he could do.

Kieran looked back sometimes, through his bloodstained hair. Sometimes, when the O’Driscolls left Kieran alone, Branwen could walk over to him, and nuzzle his owner. Branwen licked Kieran’s face, trying to keep the salty, bloodied drops from rolling down his cheeks.

Kieran shuddered. He choked. Branwen heard his sobbing, in a firm pattern, like the cadence of a dying orchestra.

***

Branwen followed Kieran back to the other gang. When Kieran didn’t talk to him anymore, didn’t say those kind, gentle words. He didn’t look at Branwen, either. He only stared ahead, with an empty expression. Branwen walked behind the horse Kieran rode. He hoped Kieran was okay. That Kieran had a reason to be silent and emotionless and cold. Maybe it was because he was covered in blood.

Branwen trotted forward to the horse’s side, leaning down to nuzzle Kieran’s face, cradled in his own lap.

It wasn’t until he stood in front of the old, run-down house, that Branwen realized Kieran wasn’t there anymore, when Kieran fell to the earth, limp, lifeless, and cold.

That’s when the gunshots began. The screaming, the yelling. Branwen watched the other horses rear and bray, shaking their heads and galloping away into the swamps. But he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay with Kieran.

Branwen was forced to leave Kieran, presented on the ground for all to see, when a firm hand grabbed his reins. “Here, boy.” A rough tone commanded. “Scoot. Get out of here.”

Branwen refused to move. So she let out a frustrated growl, grabbing onto the saddlehorn upon Branwen’s back. Nudging his belly with the stirrups, Branwen’s mind went on cruise control, and she rode him away. Away from the house. Away from Kieran.

He was hitched to a tree. “Stay here, boy.” She said, patting his neck before taking her rifle back into her hands and running back towards the house. Branwen whinnied. He wanted to be with Kieran.

Eventually, the gunfire ceased. Branwen could hear the shouts of the O’Driscolls retreating through the swamp, galloping and running.

And then he saw Kieran. Being carried by two men, he was placed on the grass, while a third held his head. Branwen watched the shovel dig into the ground, heaving out dirt in a steady rhythm. As it hit the ground, beat by beat, like the cadence of a silent monody.

***

It’s been a long time, since Branwen saw those men again. He thinks they left. He doesn’t know. He never went back to that house.

It’s morning. The sun was peeking over the trees, gently washing away the darkness of the night. Branwen’s eyes flickered open as he watches the sky turn from a shade of pink lemonade ice to a soft, baby blue.

The bushes rustled. Branwen’s ear flicked, before he looked in the direction of the noise. A man pushed aside the bushes, stepping into the clearing. He’s familiar. Thick, black hair poking out from underneath a worn white hat, with three gashes across his face.

“You’re still here, boy, huh?” He asked. His voice is rough and low. It’s gentle. But it’s not the same as Kieran’s.

“It’s been a long time, boy.” He said. He began to slowly approach Branwen, as if not wanting to scare him away. It was a lost cause. Nothing would or could make Branwen leave his place.

“You… mind if I take a quick look at him?” The man asked. Branwen didn’t pay him heed. He simply went back to watching the sky, laying elegantly behind the tombstone with the words _Kieran Duffy_ carved into stone.

The air was silent.

**Author's Note:**

> this is like one of those sad dog movies where the owner dies and the dog never leaves. but its with a horse because i love kieran and his death absolutely broke me, i wanted him to have some comfort ig.
> 
> branwen aint fake like all you hoes!!!!!!!
> 
> maybe this is unrealistic but oh well.


End file.
